


Greater Than the Sum of our Parts

by lha



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hospital Visiting, Season/Series 03, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lha/pseuds/lha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written before we knew how Elsie's health crisis would be resolved, this is a take on what might have been.</p><p>Elsie undergoes surgery and the household copes.  Possiby a little Carson/Hughes if you squint very hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on Love Below Stairs last year, but I ust came back across it and remembered how much I enjoyed it - hope you do to!

That evening, it ended up with the four women alone in the servants’ hall though Beryl wasn’t quite sure how or why. There was an odd atmosphere about the place that seemed to have drawn them together around the teapot and while they were all apparently focussed on their own tasks, she was certain nothing was actually getting done. 

“I thought…” Miss O’Brien began, looking up from the button box and breaking their shared silence, “that I might take in one or two of her dresses.” The cook looked at her, taking a moment to process what it was that she had heard.

“That‘s a lovely thought,” Anna said, looking up from her mending which was sitting resting on the tabletop.

“I can always let them back out if need be,” she continued.

“It’ll likely take some time to feed her back up,“ Beryl thought out loud, “and even then…” she drifted off knowing that there was no need to finish. 

Mr Carson had said that the hospital had phoned to say that the surgery had gone well and that Mrs Hughes was resting comfortably but she didn’t like the thought of her there on her own. The housekeeper had pointed out that she was hardly far away and that she would be able to see what was going on around her but it still didn’t lie well with the cook. 

“Will she look… odd?” Beryl closed her eyes and suppressed a sigh. Just when she thought that Daisy was finally developing a head on her shoulders.

“Well I’m sure she’ll look different,” Anna tactfully responded, “but what’s important is that she’ll be back, Daisy.” 

“I know, I just thought… I mean…” Daisy lifted her hand to rest on her own chest.

“Drink up your tea and off to bed with you,” Beryl said, standing and placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“She will be back though?” Daisy asked, biting her lip. 

“Mrs Hughes is made of stern stuff,” O’Brien said.

“And she’ll be wanting her pantry key back,” Beryl pointed out. “Now away with you, tomorrow’s baking day.”

“Yes, Mrs Patmore,” she said as she stood and left them. She called goodnight to Mr Carson as she passed his study but whether he responded or not they couldn’t hear.

\---

Anna was certain that none of them had slept well and Mr Carson worse than most. She knew the hospital had said everything was fine but she suspected that none of them would be quite convinced until they had seen her themselves. That said, she pounced on the obviously fabricated reason Lady Mary suggested for her going into the village that afternoon. The day was cool but the sun was out and it was nice to feel the breeze amongst her hair. She stepped through the hospital gate and walked up the path but she stopped on the threshold of the hospital itself. 

“Can I help you?” one of the nurses asked with a smile.

“I was hoping to visit someone, Elsie Hughes. She had surgery yesterday.” 

“Of course, she’s through here.” Anna followed the older woman down the corridor and into one of the bright, airy rooms. 

Most of the beds were full and it took her a moment for her to spot the housekeeper in the corner. She looked strikingly different, sound asleep and her skin the same colour as the sheets. 

“She lost some blood and the pain relief she’s been given often makes people drowsy,” the nurse volunteered.

“She’s not in pain though?” Anna asked, leaning over to straighten the sheets.

“No, and rest is the best thing for her now.” 

“I brought these,” she said reaching into her basket for the flowers she’d picked on the way down the road. “If there’s…”

“I’ll just find a vase. You can sit a while if you like.” Anna glanced at the chair, then placing her basket out of the way under the bed, she turned the seat to the side and sat facing the head of the bed.

She couldn’t see the wound or the dressings under the other woman’s nightgown but she could see the difference in her figure and it made Anna think of Daisy. The girl’s heart was in the right place most of the time and Mrs Patmore usually kept her right the rest of the time. Reaching forward, she rested her hand gently on the other woman’s and watched her face to see if there was any sign she might wake. Her eyes fluttered before she settled again and Anna began to tell her all about what had been going on at the House.

“… and Mr Carson’s started inventorying all the silverware,” she continued, “but I think he’s probably just trying to keep himself busy.” 

“… making work… stupid man,” Anna almost missed the hoarse whisper that escaped the other woman’s lips her head rolled across the pillow.

“Mrs Hughes?” she asked, but it seemed that even if she had woken, she’d fallen back asleep again almost instantly but there was a gentle smile gracing her features.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsie heard them before they entered the room and closed her eyes to gather her strength.

“Quiet Daisy,” Mrs Patmore said as they neared her bed, “let her rest.”

“It’s quite alright,” she replied, peeling open her eyes and offering what she hoped was a welcoming smile, “I’m awake.” She felt the other woman’s gaze lingering on her face and resisted the urge to look away. Vanity had never been her particular flaw but she knew that sat in bed in her nightgown, she looked far from presentable. Struck by a sudden wave of self-consciousness, she shifted, leaning forward and attempting to push herself more fully upright only to remember too late that it was a bad idea.

“Daisy, get that pillow.” She heard almost from a distance, as the mattress dipped next to her and an arm appeared to support her across her collar bone. “Just lean into me,” the other woman said and though Elsie desperately wanted to protest she was currently focusing on keeping the black from creeping in from the edges of her vision. She felt herself being moved gently so that she was sat, leaning back into the pillows and after a moment relaxed into the support.

“Thank you,” she managed after a moment, blinking to bring back her focus. 

“Should you be sitting up?” the cook asked eyeing her suspiciously.

“I’m fine as long as I remember not to move,” she said, trying to smile her way out of it but she wasn’t certain she succeeded. “Do you have time to sit?” she asked, hoping to avoid further questions.

“You sit Daisy,” Mrs Patmore said, “I’ll be back in a minute.” Elsie watched the other woman leave the room, concerned about what she was planning but once she disappeared, turned her head to look at the young girl, perched nervously on the wooden seat next to her. 

“Well tell me Daisy, how are you?” she asked, hoping to draw the girl out.

“Fine, thank you Mrs Hughes,” she said so quietly that Elsie could barely hear her. The older woman watched her in silence for a minute waiting for the waterfall and sure enough it came. “You need to come home, come back.”

“Well that is my intention,” she said as the girl bit her lip and looked at her hands twisting in her lap. For a moment she wandered what was going so terribly wrong in her absence and her anxiety was about to rise tenfold when she realised there was something else at play. 

“Only, it’s not right with you not there, and no-one’s the same and it’s… I just… I just can’t help thinking what if you didn’t get better and what if Mrs Patmore went away and then…” 

“Daisy,” she began, calmly and little sternly, “Neither of us are going anywhere but,” she paused, “we wont be around forever, and neither will Mr Carson or anyone else.” She watched the girl as she squirmed. “But you’ve grown into a capable young woman Daisy and whatever happens I know that you’ll cope just fine.”

“But I don’t want to cope!” she protested.

“And you wont have to just yet if you don’t want to, just don’t forget how much confidence we have in you. Mrs Patmore wouldn’t have agreed to you being her assistant otherwise, no matter what I or anyone else said.” Daisy blushed under the compliment and she made a mental note to tell her that more often.

“And if you want to stay my assistant why don’t you off and assist me by talking to that greengrocer,”

“Yes, Mrs Patmore,” the girl said bouncing up to her feet looking decidedly more buoyant than she had done when she arrived. 

“She’s something that one,” Beryl said, taking up the seat the younger woman had just vacated.

“She’s getting there,” Elsie said, turning away from the door.

“Only because she’s doing as she’s told,” the other woman said pointedly. Elsie refused to rise to the bate, instead smoothing her top sheet and shifting her arms a few inches experimentally. “They said you refused to take what Dr Clarkson’s prescribed.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Which is why you’re so grey and pinched looking that you’d pass for death warmed over.” Elsie looked away,

“I might not look my best but… all it does is make me sleep,” she finished somewhat lamely.

“And what else were you supposed to be doing this week?” the cook asked and Elsie frowned. “You’ll be back on your feet faster if you do as you’re told,” she continued much more gently. 

“I don’t think that I’ve ever slept so much in my life.” she said, feeling suddenly terribly weary and not a little tearful.

“Well, there are worse things and it’ll do you good.” Beryl said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “but only if you do what your body needs and that means sleeping and eating at the moment. What are they feeding you here? You’re thin as a rail!”

“I’ve obviously been spoiled by your cooking, Mrs Patmore,” she said smiling.

“Well you’ll just have to cope for now,” the other woman said and Elsie snorted at this, but the action pulled at her wound. She winced but it somehow morphed into yawn that she fought to cover. 

“Let’s get you lying down again,” Beryl said leaning over to help rearrange her. Elsie disliked needing this assistance greatly but had to hope that they were all right and that it would get better. Her thoughts were wandering again back to what would need done when she got back and which tasks she would struggle with. Making a bed would be a challenge and so would doing laundry but as Mr Carson was fond of pointing out to her, she was a housekeeper not a house or a laundry maid. “That’s it, just close your eyes,” Mrs Patmore’s voice was floating just on the edge of her awareness but she couldn’t draw it any closer. There was a hand stroking her hair and she could hear the sound of a trolley being rolled across the floor, a sheet being wafted up in the air before a bed was made and then it all just drifted away.


	3. Chapter 3

“How was Mrs Hughes?” Anna asked from across the dinner table. Sarah O’Brien passed their empty plates down the table but turned her head to hear what it was that was said in reply.

“Being typically stubborn,” the cook replied as she placed the crumble dish in front of Mr Carson. He gestured that she should take the empty seat next to him and she sat down with them while he began to serve.

“She was awake,” Daisy added passing a bowl of piping hot crumble down the table. 

“Whether she should have been or not,” Mrs Patmore added, 

“I think we could have all have seen that coming - she’s not one for being idle.” Sarah said, placing her bowl down in front of her. 

“Were you planning to go into the village tomorrow Mr Carson?” the cook asked.

“I was going to bake some ginger thins,” Daisy said, “you could take them in to Mrs Hughes.”

“Not tomorrow, no.” Mr Carson said, focussing entirely on the dish before him. “But I’ve no objection to anyone else who wants to go, going.” 

“I thought I might stop in,” Sarah said lightly, “I’ve to fetch something for Her Ladyship and she asked if I might see how Mrs Hughes was.”

“Will you take my biscuits?” Daisy asked.

“She’ll only have something to take if you finish sorting the stores so you can get on and make them,” Mrs Patmore chided the young girl. 

“It’s good of you to go,” Anna said quietly when she’d caught her eye. 

“My eye’s good, but I‘ll need to at least see her first,” Sarah said frankly. The housemaid watched her closely for a moment before she continued.

“I know that Mrs Hughes is normally very good at looking after us all but I think that perhaps we ought to try and make sure that she doesn’t have anything else to worry about at the moment.”

“I’m a grown woman and not in need mothering so we’ll not have a problem there,” Sarah snapped more harshly than she intended. She did wonder sometimes what other people thought about her; she didn’t suffer fools gladly and she wasn’t about to be taken advantage of but it didn’t mean that she didn’t care about anyone accept herself.

“I didn’t mean…” Anna said, trying to backtrack. She paused a moment, but everyone else at the table was still caught up in their own conversations. 

“You care and I care too. That’s all that matters,” Sarah said, deciding to leave it be for now. 

The following morning, she arrived at the hospital just before the heavens opened. One of the nurses gestured in the vague direction she needed but it seemed that there was some form of crisis going on somewhere else as she dashed off again. She spotted the housekeeper quickly and let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The older woman was propped upright in her bed and had obviously been reading before she had fallen asleep, her head rolled to the side and the book lying open in her lap. As she neared, she catalogued the hollow cheeks and papery skin that spoke of recent illness but there was a little colour there which spoke of improvement. Sarah was always much happier doing something practical than fawning and simpering so she deftly plucked the book from the other woman’s loose grasp and placed it on the bedside cabinet. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that her eye was good and she took the opportunity now to asses the other woman’s frame without her needing to be made uncomfortable. Despite Mrs Patmore’s attempts, the weight had been dropping off of the housekeeper for weeks before she had come in for her surgery and she certainly hadn’t gained any of it back in the last four days. The sheets had pooled around her waist, exposing her high necked nightgown but even with the bandages in place you could see the change. 

Sarah took her coat off and folded it before hanging it over the back of the chair. There was a chill in the air now that the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and she lent across to pull up the blankets. She knew that the other woman would have her bed shawl somewhere and she had just opened the cabinet when there was distinct sounds of movement from the bed. Having found what she was looking for she shut the door and stood back up.

“Oh, Miss O’Brien,” the other woman said when she saw her, visibly trying to shed the last remnants of sleep and straighten up, “I’m sorry.” 

“No need for that,” she replied briskly, “I’m not long here and I just thought you might be a little chilled?” As if prompted by the question or the sight of her wrap, the other woman shivered, and gingerly drew her arms in.

“Thank you, that was…”

“Well then,” Sarah began, not allowing her to finish, “Can you lean forward?” When she did, Sarah gently wrapped the wool around her shoulders and then sat back on the wooden chair to allow the other woman to settle herself. It took some effort but the housekeeper managed this without any further assistance, lifting her arms to rearrange the shawl gingerly but without obvious pain.

“Has it been raining long?” Mrs Hughes asked, her eyes gravitating towards the window.

“Anna will have seen that the laundry came in.” Sarah answered the underlying question. “Have they said when you’ll get home?”

“Dr Clarkson seemed to think that my stitches could come out on Monday, hopefully after that. I’ll still need my dressings changed but I should be able to manage.” Sarah understood this claim for independence even if it wasn’t realistic.

“I thought that I might take in one or two of your dresses,” Sarah said lightly, watching for the other woman’s reaction out of the side of her eye. 

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to…”

“You didn’t ask, I’m offering,” she pointed out bluntly. “Having something that fits will make all the difference to how you feel,” she added a little more softly.

“I…” she said but couldn’t seem to find what she wanted to say.

“I had thought I might start with one with the piping. I’m not sure if you’ve thought about what you’ll do but it might be easier to create an illusion with.” This prompted a wry smile from the Scot.

“Given that the vast majority of people I’m likely to meet between now and when I see my Maker already know exactly what I’ve had done, I don’t think the illusion will matter much. Besides,” the other woman continued, “I think I’m well past the stage where I need to be stuffing my slip with old petticoats.”

“Mr Carson might lend you some of his socks,” she said almost without thought and then froze. It wasn’t until the other woman started chuckling that she relaxed and broke into a smile. Elsie raised a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her mirth and the other rested on her chest but after a moment it became clear that her laughter had developed into hiccupping sobs. 

“Easy,” she said, standing and then perching on the side of the mattress facing the other woman, “it’s ok,”

“Sor… Sorry…” she breathed between sobs as she raised her hand to cover her eyes , her shoulders beginning to shake. 

“Enough of that,” Sarah said quietly but purposefully, “you’re long due this.” 

“Ugh, crying never helped anyone,” the other woman said once she‘d managed to gather herself. 

“That’s not true, it serves it’s purpose and there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a few justified tears. Now you take a moment, I’ll go see if I can find a damp cloth so you can freshen up. I don’t think a cup of tea would go amiss either,” she added, standing and reaching for the tin she had very carefully been handed before her departure. “I’d best be able to tell them that you’ve had at least something while I was here.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cora had purposefully not visited her housekeeper until she had heard that she was almost ready to come back to the house, after all the poor woman deserved to keep at least a little dignity. Robert had suggested that he might come along at one point during lunch but she had gently dissuaded him by pointing out that an open women’s ward was hardly the place for him to be seen. The arrival of her mother-in-law was predictable but not quite so problematic a turn of events.

“Oh, are you off to the hospital?” she asked, as though they hadn’t discussed her plans the previous day.

“Would you like to join me?” she asked, knowing that the dowager would whether she was asked or not. 

“Well, I did say I would pay a call on Dr Clarkson this week” 

“Well then,” Cora said, gesturing to the door and following the other woman out.

By the time they made it out of the motor and to the entrance of the hospital the doctor was already waiting to meet them and ushered them into his office. 

“Good afternoon Lady Grantham, Countess,” he said as they settled themselves in front of his desk. “Well I’m glad to report that our patient is doing well, I removed her stitches this morning.”

“Sybil thought that she ought to be able to come home when that had been done,” Cora said watching the doctor as he straightened some papers on his desk before glancing up.

“She is progressing and I’d be happy to release her but I do have some concerns.” When he didn’t continue, the dowager prompted him pointedly,

“Well then, share them.”

“Although Mrs Hughes has by no means been a difficult patient,” he began, “there have been certain indications that she would happily ignore any instruction I might give if it would prevent her from doing anything she thought she was able for.”

“What sort of instructions are we talking about here, Doctor?” the elder woman asked.

“It’s important to realise that her body has been through a great deal; she’ll tire quickly, there should be no reaching or stretching and she shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than a spoon for several weeks at least.”

“Well I’m sure she’ll be sensible,” Cora said, feeling a little defensive.

“Nonsense,” the other woman cut in dismissively, “she and Carson are both cut from the same cloth. It makes them remarkably good at what they do but it does not lead to a particularly high regard for one‘s own health.” Cora bit her tongue but had to admit that she had a point.

“Well then, we’ll just have to make sure that she understands that she‘s the priority for the time being.”

Shortly after this, Cora left the Dowager Countess with the doctor in his office and went in search of Mrs Hughes.

“My Lady,” the other woman said, looking a little aghast at seeing her and standing quickly. One of the nurses had sent her in the direction of the garden and she’d spotted the housekeeper quickly sitting in the sun in her familiar black attire.

“Do sit, Mrs Hughes,” she said and once the other woman had, she herself settled at the other end of the wooden bench. “It’s good to see you up.”

“It’s very good of you to come, Ma’am” the other woman said rearranging the shawl around her shoulders in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness. “Though you needn’t have, I should be back at the house tomorrow.”

“I wanted to see for myself how you were,” Cora said, continuing to watch the other woman. She was holding herself stiffly and the shadows under her eyes and her general pallor only served to support what the doctor had been saying.

“I really am much better,” Mrs Hughes volunteered, as though reading Cora’s mind, “and being up and dressed makes all the difference.” Though the other woman was certainly presentable enough, she wasn’t nearly as polished as the housekeeper normally was and her hair loosely braided over one of her shoulders made a remarkable difference to her normally stern demeanour. 

“I don’t doubt it,” she agreed. “I know that we’ll be glad to have you back but I don’t want you to worry about a thing. Mr Carson and I have been getting on quite nicely and though I’m sure we’ll be glad of your help I expect you to follow the doctor’s orders to the letter.”

“Of course, Your Ladyship,” the other woman said, glancing away before turning back, “I’m sure I’ll be able to fulfil my normal duties in no time.” 

“Well let’s just see how we get on. I’ve spoken to Dr Clarkson and he has explained what it is you should and should not be doing for the time being but if you can’t follow his advice then I shall have no choice but to send you somewhere where there is simply nothing to do but rest and there are beastly nurses to insure you take your medicine,” she added with a whisper and a secret smile. Poor Mrs Hughes looked positively aghast for a moment.

“I… you wouldn’t…I mean, I couldn‘t expect…?”

“I would send you away in a minute if it was the only way to make sure you got better. I’d rather do without you for another month than loose you altogether,” Cora said seriously. “Now,” she continued lifting the mood again, “let’s hope it doesn’t come to that because your writing is far easier to read than Mr Carson’s and he has simply no idea how to deal with the daily maids at all!” 

“Well it wouldn’t do if he were better at my job than I am, would it Your Ladyship? Is there anything I can help you with today?” 

“There’s nothing that wont wait, I think you should focus on enjoying the peace and quiet here today before you return to the drama of the house.” 

“And if ever a house had more than it’s share of drama it was Downton Abbey,” the dowager said, appearing from inside. There was a nurse bearing a tea tray behind her and the porter arrived with a little table and an extra seat in short order. 

“Now, I hope you have agreed to behave Mrs Hughes,” the elder woman continued as she watched the two members of the hospital staff scurrying around, “I fear Carson was positively dejected this morning, and there is nothing worse than a morose butler.” Cora had to hide her smile behind her hand at the look that passed across the housekeeper’s face.


	5. Chapter 5

Once Lady Grantham and the Dowager Countess had excused themselves it was all Elsie could do to keep her eyes open. It seemed ridiculous that the simple act of getting up, having someone help her dress and sitting in the garden having tea was enough to exhaust her but none the less, she slept solidly for three hours before being woken in time for supper. The fact that she was being so comparatively idle in association with thirty years in service where you ate at what would normally be considered odd times, meant that she had been struggling with the routine of the hospital and it’s meal times. She knew she needed to eat to regain her strength but she just couldn’t seem to face more than a few mouthfuls of anything. Still, she did well enough this evening that the nurse who cleared her tray didn’t comment. It wasn’t long after that that the evening medication was doled out and almost against her will, she found herself drifting back to sleep. 

Possibly because she had slept so long the previous afternoon or perhaps just because it often worked out that way, she spent a somewhat restless night and by the time the sun rose she had been staring at the ceiling for some time. Once breakfast was over it was time for morning medications and Elsie eyed the nurse suspiciously as she measured out her own.

“Forgive me for asking,” she began, “but that looks rather more than I have been taking recently.”

“Dr Clarkson has noted that you should have a higher dose today, it should make your journey more comfortable.” She thought to protest but just as the words were on the tip of her tongue the doctor appeared in the doorway.

“Good morning Mrs Hughes, I trust that there isn’t a problem?”

“Of course not, Doctor,” she said, taking the proffered cup and swallowing her medicine.

“Good, I’ll want to check your wound before we finally discharge you,” he continued, pulling the screen around the bed to afford them some little privacy. 

It was a familiar routine now and she followed his instructions while trying to actively think of something else. 

“Well everything looks fine. You will remember the exercise we went over yesterday?”

“Of course, Doctor.” 

“And I want you to remember everything we discussed about what you should and should not be doing.”

“It has been made quite clear to me what the alternative is,” she said wryly and the doctor looked at least moderately sympathetic.

“Well you’ll be in good care no doubt, speaking of which…” he trailed off as the sound of visitors arriving came from the sound of the room outside. “Ah, Mrs Patmore,” the doctor greeted, “I trust you’re here to escort our patient home?”

“Mr Carson’s sending the motorcar down shortly but I thought and come and see you right.” 

“Thank you,” she said, glad at least to know what the plans were. During the dark hours of the night she had wondered if perhaps Mr Carson might come and escort her home but it seemed not. She had understood his not visiting her thus far; not only was he likely to be horribly busy with doing her job as well as his own, he was so entirely uncomfortable with anything that delved into the realms of emotion or ‘womanhood’ that the idea of him sitting at her bedside would no doubt bring him out in a cold sweat. That said, she missed him dreadfully. They would at least be in the same building shortly and she knew he couldn’t avoid her forever. 

“Well I’ll leave you ladies to get organised. I shall see you next week Mrs Hughes, unless you have any concerns at which point I expect you to contact me directly.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

“In that case, good morning,” he said in parting. 

“Shouldn’t you be dealing with breakfast,” Elsie asked, once they were alone. 

“It’s all in hand,” the cook said, but obviously Elsie didn’t look convinced. “Daisy is perfectly capable of providing breakfast for the family. Now, Miss O‘Brien asked me to give you this,” the other woman said, lifting one of her favourite dresses from her basket. “She said that she‘s left plenty of fabric in the seems for when you fill out a little and that she‘s left a little extra room for your bandages for now,” she continued but Elsie’s attention was distracted as the garment was unfolded. For all that she and Sarah O’Brien didn’t always see eye to eye, the housekeeper had a great deal of respect for her skills if not always her attitude. In this case though, it seemed that she’d been well off the mark. “Whatever’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beryl‘s voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Just the ghost of an old waistline,” she said quietly, reaching out to take the garment. She had been quite petite in her day, slender almost, but with age her waist had thickened as women’s often did. It wasn’t that she didn’t know she’d lost weight recently but she had no idea what had gotten in to O’Brien if she thought that even now she’d fit that.

“I think you’d be surprised,” the other woman said watching her carefully, “but we’ll not know until we try though.” Elsie nodded wearily in agreement and shifted forwards so that she could stand.

“My corset, slip and stockings are in the cupboard, would you mind?” she asked, as she carefully undid the fastenings at the top of her nightgown. Despite her rather extravagant personality, Beryl was practical at heart and Elsie was glad it was she who was there. The act of dressing was still a challenge and she relied on the other woman’s help get into her under things. 

“Shall we see if we can get the fit right?” Beryl asked, pulling at the lacing in the back. She gave a stiff nod in reply; she hadn‘t bothered with the thing at all yesterday but it had more or less fit her before she had come to the hospital. “Just let me know if there’s any discomfort.” It took a few minutes work but it was strangely comforting to feel it’s gentle support. “Right. All done.” 

“Thank you,” Elsie said and perched back on the bed so that the cook could help her into her stockings. “I think it’ll be easiest to step into the dress,” she thought out loud once that was done.

“Here, lean on me,“ Beryl said, as she arranged the newly altered garment low to the ground. Elsie stepped carefully over the fabric, trying not to lean too heavily on the other woman’s shoulder for the sake of both their comfort. “Now how best we go about the sleeves?”

“Left first, it’s a little more stiff still,” she said, bending her elbow and lifting her arm to slide it into the sleeve. “If this doesn’t fit I think I might have to convince Her Ladyship to get rid of Miss O’Brien,” she muttered as they worked the fabric up her arm.

“There we go,” Beryl said as she slipped the shoulder into place, “other arm. There we go, what did I say?” Now that both her arms were in, it did appear that the dress was going to fit after all. 

“I’ll manage the fastenings,” Elsie said, trying to cover her own surprise. 

“Well I put your things in your case and then we’ll be all set to go when the motor arrives.”

Elsie’s fingers were not as nimble as she was used to but she managed to get the closures done eventually. When she was done, she ran her palms over the planes of her new figure trying to gage what she must look like. Well at least she was smaller all over she supposed and really she wasn’t any more flat-chested than Lady Mary even if she must look gaunt and haggard with it. Beryl snapped the catches on her small case and brought Elsie back to the present.

“Right,” she said, taking ownership of the situation. “Do you have my boots there?”

By the time they had gotten her boots fastened, one of the nurses had arrived with a selection of bottles and powder packets that the housekeeper thought excessive.

“That should be everything you need for this week Mrs Hughes,” she said brightly, “and there’s a motorcar outside that I think must be for you.”

“Thank you. For all your assistance,” she added as the cook carefully packed away all the medication into her basket. 

“Coat,” Beryl said holding up the garment. Elsie eyed it for a moment; the journey would only last five minutes and the effort it would take to get in t it hardly seemed worth it. “You will be wearing it. The last thing you need is to be catching a chill.”

“Yes Ma’am,” she said, unable to temper the sarcastic bite in her tone. Beryl simply raised her eyebrows and stood there until Elsie realised that it was hardly worth the argument. With a sigh, she turned around and thread first one arm then the other into her coat. 

As soon as she’d gotten outside she was grateful for the extra layer though, and that Beryl had produced her winter shawl and gloves in addition to her hat, as there was a definite nip in the air. She didn’t even complain when, after the chauffer had helped them in to the back seat, Beryl unfolded a woollen blanket and draped it across her knee. Once she was settled however, it was as though all the activity of the previous hour caught up with her and her limbs seemed to turn to led. When the engine started however, any thought that she would drift off was snatched away from her. 

“It won’t take long to get back,” Beryl said, watching her closely, “then I think it had best be tea and back to bed for you.”

“I’m sure that wont be necessary,” she said, mostly because the thought of climbing the four flights of stairs to her own room seemed like an impossible task, “they gave me a rather heavy dose of painkiller this morning it’s left me a little drowsy.”

“And still wincing every time we go over a bump.”


	6. Chapter 6

Beryl had seen that Charles Carson had been out of sorts since before he was supposed to know something was wrong and ever since Elsie had gone in for her surgery she had watched him withdraw from the rest of the household. They had tried to prompt him into going and seeing her, suspecting that it would do them both good but every time it had been mentioned he’d always skirted the issue or down right refused. A few days ago, when the patient was recovered enough that they could all see the threat of boredom on the horizon, Anna had asked Mr Carson if he might help select a book for the housekeeper from his Lordship’s library and he had apparently agreed quite readily. Not only that but he had troubled His Lordship to check the ledger so that he could remind himself of what she had already read, but when the housemaid had suggested he might like to write a note to go with it he had declined quite gruffly. 

Given this, it had been reassuring to see him returned to something much more akin to his normal temperament when he had come back down stairs after his meeting with Her Ladyship the previous day. He had been like a man on a mission since then, seeming absolutely driven to insure the household was in as good order as possible. When the question of who would go to the hospital that morning had been raised he had excused himself saying that he had some work Her Ladyship had requested to oversee. For the first time since this had all begun however, Beryl had believed that he genuinely did have things to do and he’d had something of a spring in his step even if he was as outwardly proper as ever. Yes, there had been a definite spark about him as he’d summoned Alfred and Anna away from the breakfast table as soon as they were done. 

When he opened the door of the motorcar however, Mr Carson looked as skittish as a new colt just finding it’s legs.

“Ladies,” he greeted them in his low grumble.

“Mr Carson,” the housekeeper said, obviously doing her best to appear her usual self, “it’s good to see you.”

“Yes, it… it’s good to have you back.” 

“Right well, let’s actually get you through the door shall we?” Beryl suggested, sitting forward and readying herself to get down. 

“Allow me,” Mr Carson said, stepping back and offering her a supporting arm to lean on. She watch as the other woman pushed the rug to one side and gingerly shifted forward to the edge of the seat. She took the proffered elbow and carefully descended the steps but once she was outside the vehicle paused.

“Are you quite well, Mrs Hughes?” the butler asked looking down at her.

“Quite,” she replied tersely, but he looked about as convinced as the cook was. 

“I’m right behind you,” she said when he glanced over his shoulder. “You keep going and I’ll sort out the bags.

“Alfred!” Mr Carson called, “Where is that boy?”

“Sorry Mr Carson,” the gangly youth said, bounding out of the back door, “I was just finishing…”

“Yes, yes,” Carson said, obviously wanting to derail him, “see to the bags wont you.”

“Yes, sir.” The lad ducked his head and headed towards the motor where the chauffer was unloading their things. 

“I thought you might like tea in your sitting room,” the butler said, “though if you’d rather…?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Perhaps,” Beryl began, watching the stiff set of the other woman’s shoulders and the way she was leaning in to her escort, “you ought to go straight up stairs.” 

“Thank you for your concern,” Elsie said as they entered the house, “but I’m quite certain that a cup of tea will revive me no end.” 

“Daisy!” she called, as they passed the entrance to the kitchen.

“I’ve laid the tea in Mrs Hughes study,” the girl said as she appeared in the doorway wiping her hands on her apron. Beryl thought with a swell of pride that she looked quite at home there. “It’s good to have you home, Mrs Hughes,” she added with a shy smile. 

“It’s good to be here.” 

“If you’ll excuse us Daisy,” Mr Carson said, steering the housekeeper towards the door of her sitting room. 

“Oh,” the other woman said, as the door opened and she stepped away from Mr Carson.

“Dr Clarkson suggested to Her Ladyship that the stairs might be something of a trial to begin with so we thought…” he trailed off but they’d now moved far enough in to the room to allow her to see what it was that they were talking about and what it was that Mr Carson had obviously been up to that morning. Along the wall, where there usually sat a small dining table and two straight backed chairs, there was now a bed, perfectly made up and not looking nearly so out of place as she might have expected. 

“That was very thoughtful,” Elsie said slightly distantly, drifting across the room and running her hand along the edge of desk. She looked almost like a ghost of her former self but Beryl’s practical side pointed out that was most probably because she was white as a sheet.

“And quite sensible I think,” she said breaking the momentary melancholy that had settled over the room. 

“Yes,” she agreed, turning slowly and offering them a tired smile.

“Well why don’t you pour the tea Mr Carson? And I’ll help Mrs Hughes out of her coat.” 

“Of course,” Carson bristled stepping over to her desk where a space had been cleared and the tea tray laid.

“Alright?” she asked quietly, receiving only a tight lipped nod in reply but when the other woman lifted her arms to remove her hat, the gesture was cut short. “Here, let me,” she said, stepping forward.

“Thank you.” It was almost inaudible. 

“You’ll feel better once we get you settled and some tea inside you,” she burbled away as she undid the fastenings on the other woman’s jacket and help her ease her arms free of the sleeves. By the time they were done the other woman looked ready to drop.

“I… uh took the liberty of adding some sugar,” Mr Carson said once the housekeeper was settled on the small settee presenting her with a cup and saucer.

“I’m sure this’ll see me right,” she said, accepting it with an unsteady hand. 

“It’ll help,” Beryl said, having hung up both their things on the back of the door. 

“Well perhaps then you can rest before lunch,” Mr Carson suggested, perching upright on the edge of the chair he had brought around from behind the desk.

“I…” Elsie began, obviously about to protest. Beryl watched from the sidelines this time at the battle of wills going on. “Actually I think that might be a good idea. First though, tell me what it is that you have been struggling with?” 

Half an hour later, and the mood of both the housekeeper and the butler seemed to have improved drastically and she even had a little colour to her cheeks. Despite that however, the third time that Elsie had to stop her head falling forward, Beryl decided enough was enough. 

“Time for us to go Mr Carson,” she declared standing and straightening her skirts. 

“Of course, you must have work to do,” the housekeeper said.

“And you need to rest,” the butler said, also standing and moving the chair he had been sitting on back to where it had come from. 

“You’ll bring the account book by though?” she asked.

“This afternoon, I think,” he said, eyeing her carefully. “Now if you’ll excuse me ladies,” he went to leave but paused with his hand on the door handle and turned back round. “It really is terribly good to have you back.”

“And I meant what I said too, it’s good to be back.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to rest but if there’s anything at all you need.”

“I’ll call the hall boy or one of my maids,” she replied with a knowing smile. 

“Yes, well…”

“I’ll see you at lunch Mr Carson.”

“Only if you feel well enough to join us,”

“I’ll be there, and I intend to go over those accounts this afternoon.”

“As long as you don’t push yourself too far,” he said with a frown.

“Is that the doorbell I hear?” Beryl said, cocking her head as though she were straining to hear something in the distance.

“Is it?” the Butler asked, “Until later, ladies,” he said, bidding them farewell and leaving the room.

“That was cruel!” Elsie said in a hushed voice, her eyes twinkling. 

“That man is something else, we couldn’t get him within ten feet of you for a week and now that you’re back we can’t get him out of the room.” 

“He doesn’t find these things easy,” Elsie said quietly, picking at her skirt. 

“I don’t think any of us do,” she countered. “Still though, I’m sure things will settle down. Right, let’s get your boots off and you can have a lie down while I go and see what a mess that young girl’s made of my kitchen.” She kept talking away but by the time she opened the door to leave, it was quite clear that Elsie Hughes was fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - I'd love to hear what you think and any ideas you have for a possible sequal...


End file.
